


Epilogue

by notmanos



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, destiel as hell, do it you cowards, last season spoilers, only use drugs if you can handle them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:28:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27574487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notmanos/pseuds/notmanos
Summary: With the last episode coming up, I figured I would do my own take, within my fictional canon. Why not? Will probably not happen this way. It's brief, and pretty soft, especially coming from me.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Kudos: 21





	Epilogue

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so they should pull the trigger on this, right? But in case they don't, I figured I'd hit you with my scenario of how Dean gets Cas out of the Empty. (But Jack must have already, right?)

Despite all the books in the bunker, there was almost nothing about how to get into the Empty.

_ Almost _ nothing. 

Dean finally found something, but it was written in that rarefied old language that didn’t make a lot of sense. He even asked Sam for a more current translation, but he was of little use. Languages evolved, but at the same time, they also aged and died. But one of the things that came through loud and clear was no pure human could access it.

Physically.

What had Dean learned over the course of all these years? Simultaneously too much and not enough. Still, after drinking himself into a near coma, he came to with a splitting headache, and an urge to call Cas and ask for some healing. But Cas was gone - stuck in the Empty. 

That made his head hurt even more, and stomach curdle. How dare Cas tell him everything he had, and just be taken. But, if he could have saved him, or bought time, what would he have said to him? This too had tormented Dean’s dreams.

But that was the key - dreams. What kind of connection did he and Cas have left? Even when Dean was being taken over by the Mark, Cas could still wander into his dreams, and had, always trying to help him in one manner or another. If they had that kind of connection, it couldn’t be one way. He had to still have that connection to Cas, right? Well, in theory. If he was dead, maybe not. 

But Dean was determined to try and find out if there was any way he could access that channel. And more history brought possibilities to mind. 

Of course, it wasn’t Dean’s experience, but something he heard about from Sam. While Dean was in that other universe, with their female counterparts, Sam was here, following Cas into another realm to talk with a god. To do that, Sam had to eat peyote to access the realm - otherwise, he couldn’t. Humans couldn’t go there in any other way. Was that the same of the Empty? Dean was willing to give it a shot. 

He didn’t tell Sam about his idea, mainly because he knew he’d balk at it, and point out all the holes in his plans. It wasn’t the first time Dean had done hallucinogens. Of course, Sam had a freak out while on peyote, and said it was scary, which figured. He loved his brother, but, man, he could be such a lightweight at times. Dean liked altering his reality, because his reality was so bleak. 

Lucid dreaming was more something he’d read about, and didn’t quite get, but he was determined to try. Dean found a place to buy some hallucinogens, and gave it a shot. 

Dean laid down on his bed in the bunker, like he was going to sleep, and ate some peyote. It didn’t taste like much of anything, which actually made it an upgrade over magic mushrooms, which often tasted like some variety of feet. 

Soon, Dean felt both half awake and half asleep, which was ideal. He was trying to straddle a line, as he wasn’t exactly a natural psychic. Or even an unnatural one, which was Sam, kind of. For a bit. 

He’d read somewhere that sometimes it was better to think of a place familiar to you and work from there, so he imagined his mind as the bunker. When he found himself in it, he went immediately to his room, figuring he’d find Cas or his connection to him there. But he didn’t. He tried the room Cas stayed in when he was recovering from Rowena’s spell, and also found nothing but an empty room. Dean went from room to room, alternately calling ,”Cas” and the much more forceful, “Castiel”, but to no effect. 

This was stupid, right? He was only human, and he couldn’t access the connection, even if it still existed. Even if Cas was still alive. But Dean wasn’t ready to give up. At least on this part of it.

He had given up on trying to figure out what he was going to say to Cas. He’d written some stuff down, as if rehearsing a speech - which was exactly what he was doing - but the first one he ended up throwing away. The second one he also threw away. He gave the third a half hearted try before giving up on it. What did he want to say to Cas? So much, and yet, he wasn’t sure exactly how to say any of it. Crowley had once snapped at him that he was “emotionally constipated”, which was fucking rich coming from a guy who was emotional chaos in a skin suit, but ... now he was getting what he meant. Dean had words, but he never seemed to know how to use any of them. Dad’s command of not letting emotions into a fight, to never let them get the better of him, had sunk into his bones, and now it was reflex to try and keep emotions out of everything. But now that he knew that Dad was trying to drill that into him so he could kill Sam if he had to, it seemed toxic beyond belief. Jesus - did Dad really think he could make him a Terminator? What the fuck was that? Grooming him to kill his little brother. He knew Dad thought he was doing the right thing, but that was monstrous. No wonder Dean felt like he was more monster than man most of the time. 

Of course, Cas told him he wasn’t, and he desperately wanted to believe him. Scratch that - he did believe him. Cas wouldn’t lie to him. 

Night two, and he continued his internal tour of the bunker, and found no Cas, no connection to him in a way he could recognize. He went to the garage, where the Impala was, he went through the books in the library, and found nothing. He was frustrated beyond belief, and felt like an asshole. Dean wanted to give up, but Cas had never given up on him, even when he should have. 

Maybe this space was simply too comfortable. Maybe, if he wanted to find the connection, he should go back to the start.

Well, to be honest, the start was somewhere in Hell, and he couldn’t do that. Dean liked to think he was strong enough to take it, and hadn’t even paid a visit to Hell since then? But the truth was, it still burned. He still had Hell memories that refused to fade tucked back in a dark corner of his mind he didn’t visit. His good old repression box, saving him from dealing with something that would shatter him into a million pieces. It was full to near bursting at this point. He lived in fear that one day it would explode and leave him comatose, his brain melting down like a nuclear reactor. 

So he started from when he first met him in vessel form. Dean walked outside of the bunker, and when day suddenly turned to night, and he was walking on the side of an unfamiliar road, he  felt like he was getting closer. He found the shed far back from the road, although it was more of a shadow until he got close enough to make out the shape. 

Dean hoped against hope that he’d open the door to find Cas here, or some kind of portal like connection to him, but he opened it on nothing but darkness. He remembered the light bulb had exploded, but since this was an attempt at lucid dreaming, he imagined there was a light, and it sprung immediately to life. Dean had the bad fortune to be looking at it as it materialized, so he needed a moment to blink black spots out of his eyes. 

The shed was still covered in sigils and wards of every kind, none of which were effective against angels. Dean remembered drawing some, working with Bobby to cover every inch of the place, and it made his stomach twinge. Thinking about Bobby always did that. They’d lost so many people. He really didn’t need Cas being another one. “Goddamn it, Cas, get your feathery ass down here!”

Dean leaned against the wall and slid down it, sitting on the floor. What did he have left? Summoning Jack maybe. Although honestly, what about Rowena? She had no reason to help him, but he felt he could make a decent appeal. And as Queen of Hell she must have had access to The Empty. Fuck it - if she wanted to make a deal with him over it, he’d do it. So far she seemed better at running Hell than Crowley, which made all kinds of sense. 

“Dean?” Cas said faintly.

Dean looked up in time to see Castiel stumble in the door, looking rumpled and confused, like he’d woken him up. Which, technically, he had. “Cas?” He jumped up to his feet, and went to him, quickly swallowing him up in a hug. Was this really Cas, or had he willed him into existence? Was this lucid dreaming, or the real thing? Shit! How could he tell?

Cas hugged him back, resting his chin on his shoulder. The fact that Dean could feel him as a real, physical thing didn’t answer any questions. This could still be his mind, spinning out a yarn.

“How - how did you do this?” Cas asked, sounding genuinely confused. 

“A shitload of peyote.”

Cas made a small noise, somewhere between a hmm and a scoff. “That was actually a good call. Peyote is often used in religious ceremonies and rituals.”

Dean held him back by the shoulders, trying to ascertain if this was his Cas, or just his mind coughing up a simulacrum. “Is this you?” At Cas’s dubious frown, Dean added, “I’m tripping balls right now. I could wake up hugging a lamp. I need to know if this really worked.”

Cas put a hand on Dean’s arm, his frown collapsing. “It’s me, against all odds.” 

“I hope so,” Dean admitted. Now he had a vague idea of what he wanted to say. Being as high as fuck helped a lot. He knew it said nothing good about him that he had to be wasted to be honest, but fuck it. One problem at a time. “’Cause, the way you left things ... I didn’t really know how I felt at first, ‘cause you’re my best friend in the whole world, possibly my only friend. And every time you leave, or you die, I feel like a part of me is missing, you know? I didn’t realize that was weird until I thought back to how Sam mourned people, and maybe it was just me? Letting my emotions get the better of me?” Dean was aware he was both talking too fast, and making too many sentences questions, but he didn’t know how to stop either of those things. “I feel like I’m being incoherent, but the point is, I love you too, and I don’t know what that means, for us or for me. I don’t know what happens now or where we go from here.”

Cas smiled. “We’re making it up as we go along again.”

Jesus, that seemed like a lifetime ago. But if someone asked Dean his age, he might say a thousand, and it wouldn’t feel like much of an exaggeration. Maybe deaths added a century to you every time you came back. “Yeah, I guess we are. Assuming we can spring you from the Empty.”

“I’m awake now. Last time that happened, she wasn’t a fan.” Cas shook his head, and he had the smallest smile on his face, but Dean was glad to see it. “You really shouldn’t have been able to access this connection. I’m still not sure how you did.”

“Since when has death meant anything to us? We’re always pissing them off. Of course, we keep killing them, so I can see why they’re mad.”

Cas chuckled, rubbing his face like he really did just wake up. Only out of death instead of sleep, which made no sense. Good thing Dean was ludicrously high. It made impossible things easier to swallow. “You really are the most ridiculous person I’ve ever met.”

“Is that a compliment?” Dean wondered. Because, if you looked at it from certain angles, it could have been. Maybe.

Cas’s smile remained warm. “You know it is. See you soon.” He turned and walked back into the darkness ... or was that the Empty? Dean couldn’t see the road outside the shed anymore, just a wall of solid black. Or solid Empty? 

“I’m gonna hold you to that,” he called after him. Man, he hoped this was real.

When Dean woke up, he barely remembered what happened, and his head had that weird fogginess that sometimes occurred after too many hallucinogens. For a while, the edges of reality seemed too sharp, and yet at the same time, kind of fuzzy. He couldn’t explain it if someone asked him to. But the fact that he knew of this spoke volumes about how terribly he had been living his life. 

He took a shower until he felt like reality was back in focus, and checked in the bathroom mirror to see if any of it still showed on his face. Luckily, his pupils were no longer blown so wide you could throw a hubcap through them. Peyote was no joke. 

When he came out into the main room, Sam looked up from his laptop and scowled. “How much did you have to drink last night?” At Dean’s curious look, he elaborated. “It’s past two in the afternoon.”

Wow. Peyote was a sleep aid? Or was it all the lucid dreaming? It was like being in a different dimension, one where time ran differently. Dean wasn’t sure.

He almost told Sam what he had been doing, but decided not to. He also hadn’t brought up Cas’s declaration of love either. Mainly because Dean was so appalled at how fucking stupid he was. In retrospect, everything Cas had done for them - for him - made so much more sense. He was already aware Cas had pretty much damned himself by picking their side against Heaven, but he always thought it was because he saw they were right. And maybe he did, but it might have been slightly lower down on the list than he thought. 

And all those demons and angels who threw in little digs - Crowley most definitely included - about his angel “boyfriend”, were not actually digs. They were more or less statements of fact he chose to interpret as shittiness. They got a clue long before Dean did. And why had Dean ever decided Cas couldn’t feel that way about him? Even Sam had made an occasional oblique reference that Cas had deeper feelings for him, although he attributed that to Sam simply being weird. How thick headed was he? 

It wasn’t Cas’s fault. It wasn’t that he believed Cas was incapable of love. Dean honestly believed he deserved no one’s love. He was a monster, right? A killer, a savage, a torturer. Sam put up with him because he was his brother, and because Dean had basically played surrogate father for him for much of his life. But no one could really love him, because he was fundamentally unlovable, and barely fit to be in human society. Dean kind of knew this, but he didn’t really confront it until Cas had said that. Then it was like a gut punch of a revelation. He hated himself that much, huh? It explained his self-destructive tendencies perfectly. Again, both he and Sam needed years of therapy, but Dean even more so. He’d probably never get it - he couldn’t exactly tell a therapist he’d been to Hell and his father spent a lot of time training him so he could kill his brother if he had to - but he felt just acknowledging his fucked-up-ness was a start. It was going to have to be, for now. 

Dean was still wondering if what had happened last night was wish fulfillment or an actual thing, when they heard the door of the bunker open. Sam looked up, not expecting anyone, but Dean was already on his feet. Could it be ..? It could be something bad - last time he opened the bunker door it definitely was - but Dean hoped that this time, his faith was rewarded. 

He walked up the stairs, heart in his throat, and was relieved to see it was Cas. “It was real,” Dean said, euphoric. He had actually done it. Goddamn, he wasn’t completely useless. 

Cas looked at him, and gave him a smile so bright it was like the sun breaking through the clouds. Dean felt a lightness in his chest that he hadn’t felt since ... forever? A long time, at any rate. “It was. I still have no idea how that worked.”

Dean hugged him, taking comfort in how solid and warm Cas felt. Cas embraced him in return, and Dean wondered anew how he could have been so stupid. Maybe Cas would have to change his mind about loving him because he was so damn dumb, but he hoped not.

Without thinking, Dean kissed him. For a second it was weird, and then it wasn’t.

Because he was kissing Castiel, and it was perfect.

**Author's Note:**

> The female Winchesters (and Cas) Dean pals around with, and Sam's bad trip, are both featured in my fic The Other Side. (Where, I might add, the distaff Dean and Cas are an obvious item.) You might also like to check out my fic Over The Hills and Far Away, where demon Jenny figures out Cas loves Dean, and Dean just assumes it's a dig.


End file.
